


With Thieves LIke These

by ToastMaloneIII



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Sam is supportive no matter what, Steve is a reckless idiot, Thief!Bucky, We all love it, and Bucky loves it, art thief!Steve, the thief fic we all wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastMaloneIII/pseuds/ToastMaloneIII
Summary: Steve and Bucky are both thieves that cross paths on the same heist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting with the original title that I wanted. I am considering working on a part two to this. Let me know what you guys think!

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

 

The voice is so smooth, so pleasant, that Steve forgets for a moment that he’s just been caught. Instead he wants to know this man, wants to listen to him talk for hours. All of that fades in a instant when Steve remembers where he is. Which is currently, struggling to pick the lock on this stupid door.

 

He freezes, then turns slowly. The man behind him is leaning casually against the door frame, body oozing a powerful grace that has Steve’s knees going weak. Good thing he’s already on them.

 

Soft, dark hair hangs down to the man’s chin, framing his angular face beautifully and accenting his already flawless cheekbones. His sharp grey eyes are locked on Steve and he goes hot under their intense stare, a flush staining his cheeks. Steve finds his gaze roaming over bulging muscles and wondering what all that skin looks like under the black gear he’s wearing. He wonders if it’s scarred and rough or smooth and tan.

 

The man is smirking, and honest to god smirk, and Steve feels his chest puff up as he attempts to regain his composure. Who the fuck was this guy anyway? And why was he interrupting Steve’s heist?

 

“Can I help you?” Steve asks tersely. He goes back to working on the lock, having determined that if this man were a cop he would have arrested him already. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome just laughs, and Steve fumes.

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” The man replies voice full of amusement, “What are you doing at my heist?”

 

Steve just fucking loses it.

 

“ _Your_ heist?”

 

“Yep. I’ve been scoping this place out for weeks, it’s mine.”

 

“So have _I_ , and _I_ got here first.” Steve cringes at his juvenile retort. The man laughs again.

 

“If you weren’t so damn pretty, I might be angry right now. But watching you blush like that has me all wound up. Tell me, does that blush go all the way-”

 

Just then, Steve manages to crack the lock, and the door swings open. Which in turn sets off a shrill, piercing alarm. The other man looks shocked, hands moving to cover his ears, but Steve jumps up and dashes into the room.

 

The painting is hard to miss, it’s practically begging to be stolen. Steve rips it from the wall, cracks the frame over his knee and pulls the canvas gently from it’s wooden supports and rolls it deftly into the canister at his back.

 

After that he’s across the room and out the window without a second glance to see if his new friend is following. Steve sprints across the street and down two blocks, before he feels comfortable enough to slow to a walk. Sirens can be heard in the distance and he knows it won’t be long before the police get to the crime scene.

 

It’s not his first steal, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s taken something simply because he wanted it. He’s stolen incriminating political documents, family heirlooms that had been taken, he even stole a dog once (only to return it to it’s rightful owner of course). Ever since he and the painting first crossed paths he knew it would be the one thing he stole out of pure want.

 

Climbing the stairs to his fourth story apartment, Steve wondered, not for the first time, if he’d get caught. He unlocked his door and flipped on the kitchen lights, not surprised to find his roommate sprawled out on the couch in the living room. He and Sam were childhood friends, and he claimed that he couldn’t sleep soundly until Steve was home safe from a heist.

 

“Alright then, let’s see this thing.” Steve laughed and dropped the canister in the kitchen table, instead heading to the fridge for a beer. After tonight’s events, he sure as hell needed it. Sam was already opening the case, but Steve was still focused on the man at the mansion. Had he been planning to steal the same painting? Surely not, it hadn’t even been the most valuable piece in the room.

 

“Yo, Steve. You good?” Sam’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and Steve smiled, not convincing at all. “What happened out there?” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

 

“I don’t know man, it was kinda weird.”

 

“What?”

 

“I was working on the door, when this guy just showed up.”

 

“What?” Sam was yelling now, rightfully so. He worried about Steve, escpecially since he knew first hand how reckless Steve could be. “Did he see your face? Was he a cop?”

 

“No! No, Sam he was there to steal something too. And he was gorgeous, I mean the perfect specimen.”

 

“Jesus, Steve! A man walks in on you stealing a painting and all you can think about is banging him? Seriously?”

 

“Hey! He wasn’t a threat. And that’s not all I thought about, okay?”

 

“Whatever, just nevermind. Are you gonna let me see this thing or what?” Steve smiled sheepishly and grabbed the case, pulling the canvas gently from it.

 

When it was laid out on the table, Sam let out a low whistle.

 

“That is somethin’ else, Steve.”

 

“Isn’t it?” Steve’s tone was wistful as he stared at the swirling lines of color. Ever since he'd studied for his art history degree, this had been his favorite painting. It never failed to grab his attention and every time he saw it he seemed to find something new, some hidden detail to fixate on.

 

An hour later, when Steve could bear to take his eyes off of it, the painting was nestled in it’s new frame and hanging on the wall opposite his bed.

 

The next day at work, making skinny vanilla lattes and extra dry cappuccinos, Steve found his focus drifting to the man again. He knew he’d probably never see him again, but he kind of hoped he did. It wasn’t often that he met someone else in his line of work, not to mention someone so stunning. He wouldn’t mind getting lost in those eyes again.

 

“Well would you look at that. A thief and a barista, you are just a jack of all trades aren’t you?”

 

Steve froze at the familiar voice, whirling around to steel grey eyes meeting his own over the register.

 

“Would you keep your voice down?!”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I embarrass you? You know it’s gonna be kinda hard to hide this whole barista thing if you keep doing it in public.” Steve couldn’t help it, laughter pealed out of him.

 

He grinned triumphantly back at Steve, clearly pleased with himself and let his gaze travel along Steve’s body.

 

“I don’t we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Bucky.”

 

“Steve.” Blue eyes met grey and Steve felt his groin tighten, yeah this might become a problem.

 

“Well Steve, I’d like a large hazelnut latte and, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to know when you get off.”

 

Steve nearly fell to the floor.

 

It was risky bringing Bucky back to his place, but Steve was beyond rational thought right now. Besides, the man was thief himself. He wouldn’t rat Steve out.

 

They crashed through the front door, Bucky’s hands already sliding down the back of Steve’s jeans. Their mouths met in a searing kiss and they both moaned at the slide of lips and tongue. Steve whimpered at the rough squeeze that Bucky gave his ass and thrust his hips into the other man’s.

 

“Ah, Bucky please.”

 

“Bedroom?” Steve didn’t even hesitate, he grabbed one hand and tugged him toward his room, flinging the door open and pushing Bucky toward his bed.

 

They were both sprawled across the sheets, naked and hands roaming over smooth skin and rippling muscles, when Bucky pulled back. His eyes roamed over Steve’s body, taking in the well defined abs and slim waist.

 

“Fuck, baby. You are so pretty.” Steve blushed at the compliment and Bucky grinned.  


“I wondered how far down this went.” Bucky nipped lightly at the red skin of Steve’s chest and followed the flush down his stomach, leaving hot kisses in his wake.

 

“Oh, Bucky! Fuck me! Please!” Bucky chuckled at his impatience and reached for the lube.

 

He teased Steve relentlessly, preparing him far beyond necessity, slowly working him up to three fingers and laughing at Steve’s exasperated whines. By the time he rolled the condom on, Steve was a flushed, panting mess. His eyes glazed over and tear-filled.

 

“I swear if you don’t put it in me-” Steve’s sentence was cut short by the slow push of Bucky’s cock against his opening.

 

Bucky didn’t stop until he was seated deeply in Steve, his cock completely surrounded in the tight heat of him. He groaned loudly at the feeling, struggling to keep his hips still and let Steve adjust.

 

“Oh Stevie, baby you are so perfect.”

 

Steve whimpered against Bucky’s skin, his breaths coming out in short pants against his neck. When Bucky began to move, slow dragging thrusts that quickly turning into powerful jolts, all he could do was hold on and ride the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

 

Bucky shifted Steve’s knees to rest on his shoulders and set a harsh, pounding rhythm that left Steve slack jawed and moaning.

 

“Bucky, Yes! Oh Yes! Don’t stop.” He was close, so close, all he needed was some more friction. Just a little bit more to push him over the edge.

 

A hand wrapped around his cock and he nearly shouted in relief. Bucky jerked his cock in short, rough tugs that had Steve dancing perilously close to the edge.

 

“C’mon pretty baby, come for me.” Steve plummeted off the edge.

 

His vision whited out, and he was only vaguely aware of Bucky pulling out and jerking himself quickly before joining Steve in the post-coital bliss that permeated the room.

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That may need to become a regular thing.” Steve’s pulse stuttered at the Bucky’s implication. Would this become a thing? Steve certainly wouldn’t mind. He laughed and snuggled into the crook of Bucky’s neck, solid arms coming to wrap around his waist.

 

“Yeah, but first I’m gonna need a nap.”

 

When he woke, the apartment was silent and the pillows beside him were cold. Steve stretched lightly, taking stock of his pleasantly sore muscles and rolled onto his back, smiling stupidly at the ceiling.

 

“Wow.”

 

He had no doubt that he would be seeing Bucky again, fairly soon. When he noticed the painting missing from his wall, he wasn’t even surprised. He’d had a feeling that was what Bucky had been after that night.

 

_Thanks babe._

 

Steve plucked the note off of the wall and held it gently.

 

He couldn’t wait to steal it back.   


End file.
